ht of as much as his main truck sticking over the horizon.

"And the _Petrel_--that's our steamer, you know--well, sir, maybe he
didn't make a fool of her. Payson, on the _Petrel_, is the ugliest man
in the service, and when this fellow Schofield led him a chase of a
hundred and fifty miles, and then got away among the islands of
Placentia Bay, they say Payson nearly had apoplexy. So your getting
him ought to be quite a feather in your cap."

"I consider that I did my duty. But would you mind telling me what you
have signaled me for?" Burns resented the gossip of this young
whipper-snapper of the service who seemed, despite his frankness, to
have something of a patronizing air.

"Certainly. Captain Foraker desires me to tell you that he wished the
prisoner transferred to the _Albatross_. We know that you are not
provided with an absolutely secure place to keep the prisoner, and,
as we are on our way to St. Andrews on another matter, the skipper
thinks he might just as well take the fellow in and hand him over to
the authorities."

"Well, I don't agree with your skipper," snapped Burns. "I got
Schofield, and I'm going to deliver him. He's safe enough, don't you
worry. When you go back you can tell Captain Foraker that Schofield is
in perfectly good hands."

The pleasant, amiable manner of the subaltern underwent a quick
change. He at once became the stern, businesslike representative of
the government.

"I am sorry, Captain Burns, but I shall deliver no such message, and
when I go back I shall have the criminal with me. Those are my orders,
and I intend to carry them out." He turned to the six sailors sitting
quietly in the boat, their oars still in the air.

"Unship oars!" he commanded. The sweeps fell away, three on each side.
"Squad on deck!" The men scrambled up the short ladder and lined up in
two rows of three. At his belt each man carried a revolver and
cutlasses swung at their sides.

"Now," requested the officer amiably, "will you please lead me to the
prisoner?"

Nat's face darkened into a scowl of black rage, and he cursed under
his breath. It was just his luck, he told himself, that when he was
about to triumph, some of these government loafers should come along
and take the credit out of his hands.

For a moment he thought of resistance. All his crew were on deck,
drawn by curiosity. But he saw they were vastly impressed by the
discipline of the visitors and by their decidedly warlike appearance